Tribute to the Broken
by Merigold
Summary: Hisoka does not feel lonely. Really. TatTsu, TsuHi and lots of fun, angsty goodness. Sequel to Again.
1. Ache

This is a sequel of sorts to my fic, _Again._ It would be good to have read that first, but I guess this can be understood without it. 

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Yami no Matsuei. I am making no profit off of this work of serious parody. 

**Warnings: **Angst. Angst. Angst. Yaoi, OOC probably, and fluff. Later. Much later ^^

**Pairings: **Tatsumi/Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki/Hisoka ^^

**AN**: Well. Since I noticed the distinct lack of Tsuzuki/Hisoka fluff being produced recently… I took my sadness out on Hisoka and wrote angst. Angst angst angst.  ^^; Go me.

I have an odd writing style. Most of these sentences are fragmented, and that is intentional. This doesn't really read like anything else.  I have a hard time keeping things in the proper tense, so if you notice any mistakes please tell me and I'll correct them. 

**Tribute to the Broken**

It isn't particularly loud. You really have to be listening, to hear it. Sharp, indrawn breaths. Soft, choked cries that are muffled even further by the pillow.  Even in sleep, he keeps his pain hidden. 

The blankets rustle as he tosses and turns. Not violently.  The dreams are routine, now, and can no longer get the reaction they used to.

Awake now. Staring at his rumpled pillow. A blue pillow. He likes blue, always has. It reminds him of the sky. When he was a child, he used to daydream about growing wings and flying up in the air. Flying away from his house, higher and higher, getting further and further away from the pressing of others' emotions… 

Almost all of the things in his sparse apartment are blue. He supposes some other colors wouldn't hurt. Maybe he can get something purple. He thinks that purple is a very beautiful color. It reminds him of Tsuzuki's eyes-

The alarm clock is ringing. Time to get up.  

Ignoring the aches that tell him he should still be sleeping, Hisoka gets out of bed quietly. Last night was probably the most sleep he has gotten in... God, he doesn't remember how long it has been. He averages maybe two hours a night, if he's lucky. Last night he enjoyed a whole five hours of repose.

Stumbling into the bathroom takes more effort than it should.  A glimpse of himself in the mirror shows a pale boy with prominent dark circles under both eyes.

As far as he knows, Shinigami cannot die of exhaustion. He turns away from the mirror and gets himself ready for another day at Juohcho. 

The walk there is uneventful. He could've teleported, probably should've, but he simply feels too tired. The walk will do him some good, he reasons. Maybe he can gain some sort of strength out of it.

A quick look at the board as he enters the building reveals that there is no meeting this morning. Things have been quiet lately; a blessing for the worn empath. 

There isn't much paperwork to be done, because of the recent lull in disturbances. The young Shinigami settles into his desk chair and stares at his folded hands. 

Tsuzuki hasn't arrived yet.

He almost wishes he did have some paper work. It would give him something to do. When he doesn't have anything to do, he has to think. And that always leads to bad things.

Tsuzuki still has paperwork left, of course. He is notoriously slow with it. Hisoka reasons that after seventy years, it must get too tedious to bear. 

The young Shinigami gets up and takes some of the papers from the top of Tsuzuki's 'In' pile. It gives him something to do, he reasons, and it'll be worth it to see Tsuzuki's smile when he finds out-

He has to stop doing that. 

With neat print he begins to write a summary of a recent case. Tsuzuki walks in about halfway through. Hisoka could tell he was coming as soon as he entered the building, of course. He is projecting happiness in waves. Apparently there is some sort of sale at a favored sweet shop.

Happiness is flowing into the room. Hisoka scowls a little. "You're late."

"Good morning, Hisoka!" The violet eyed man greets cheerfully, choosing to ignore Hisoka's (greeting? Statement?). Affection joins the happiness already filling the room, and Hisoka holds his hand to his forehead. The emotions are almost unbearably strong, however warm they are. They're making his head ache. 

His empathy has been unusually sensitive, lately.  He attributes it to lack of sleep.

"I thought you were already done with your paperwork..." Tsuzuki says as he leans over the blonde's shoulders. When he gets a good look at what Hisoka's writing, his grin gets bigger, as do the emotions he's projecting. "Sankyuu, Hisoka!"

"It's nothing." He says faintly. All the emotions so close are doing odd things with his head. The pain intensifies.  Hisoka reaches up and pulls his hair, harshly, to help center himself.

Now there's concern floating throughout the already crowded room, and that's enough to make him choke. 

"Hisoka? Are you ok? What's wrong?" 

"I'm fine!" He manages get out, strained, as the world blurs.  He fights to stay conscious. It doesn't help that Tsuzuki's there, so close… He shuts his eyes. 

"Hisoka…" there isn't any annoyance in his voice, but Hisoka can feel it with his empathy. Not much aggravation, but the emotion is still there. Tsuzuki wishes Hisoka would just trust him, and doesn't like being lied to.

Hisoka usually can't feel such things through the older Shinigami's shields, though. So it must be a very strong emotion.

Tsuzuki has every right to be angry with him. He's given the empath every reason to trust him, and has gotten nothing but suspicion and anger in return.

_Brat._

He wobbles slightly, and the older Shinigami puts out a friendly hand to steady him. 

'I can't take this anymore…' the blonde thinks bleakly, as so _many_ more emotions flow in at the touch, and is unconscious quickly despite his fierce struggle against it. 

~@~@~@~

"What's wrong with him?" The dark haired man hovers worriedly over his bedridden partner, looking anxiously to the blonde scientist for a response. He carried Hisoka here right after his collapse. 

"Well… It's not a physical illness, I know that much…" Watari says, looking with a puzzled frown over the most recent test results.  There didn't appear to be any disease, or any sign of a magical curse (other than his original one). That left only his mental state. "I'll have to do some research, but I think it has to do with his empathy." 

Since a Shinigami is pretty much just a soul, the mind is critical to their health. Shinigami's physical selves are incredibly resilient, but that means that their minds are very vulnerable. Especially vulnerable with a strong empath like Hisoka.  Mental hurts transfer into physical hurts, but he couldn't think of anything recently that would push Hisoka into a depression. Everything around the Meifu has been almost eerily calm.

"Well," he begins again, "if it is his empathy, like I think, the best thing we can do right now is get him away from other people's minds. His house would probably work the best for that, as long as we ward it, but I don't know how we're going to get him there..."

"Why can't we just carry him?" Tsuzuki asks, confused, "He's very light…"

"Yes, but I don't want to risk skin on skin contact… I don't think he we should risk him syncing with others emotions, while we're still unsure what's wrong with him." Watari replies, pondering what should be done.

The violet-eyed man thinks for a moment, slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting about that part of Hisoka's empathy. "We could wrap him in a blanket…" he offers, lamely, and Watari disregards him.

"I know!" the scientist says triumphantly, after a minute,  "Tatsumi! He's so strongly shielded, he's practically an emotional void! Could you ask him to come help?"

Tsuzuki brightens despite himself at the mention of his lover's name. "Of course! I'll go get him."

-

The first thing Tatsumi notices as he picks the boy up is how painfully thin he is. He is aware, of course, that the boy had a very hard life, like all Shinigami, but to actually feel the results of a lifetime of abuse and neglect in his arms is a very different thing than just knowing it in his mind.  The shadow master makes a mental note to monitor the empath's eating habits more carefully in the future. Even though he is dead, and thus incapable of gaining any more weight, Tatsumi reasons it would only be _right_ to look out for him.  

More food would probably help keep him conscious more often, as well, and help increase productivity… Tatsumi mentally berates himself for slipping into common thought patterns of figures and expenses. It seems cruel to do so, especially now.

Hisoka's small house is already warded.  Unwanted thoughts are kept out, and in case of the boy's accidental projection, his own powers are kept inside. The weight in his arms shifts, muscles relaxing a bit, as they arrive. The boy appears to have settled a bit more, now that he doesn't  have to deal with any input to his empathy.  Tatsumi mentally sends thanks to Watari for putting the wards up before. They appear to be helping, at least a little.

The empath's house is very utilitarian, Tatsumi notices, having never seen the inside before. It is bare, and what few items he does have are extremely neat and ordered.  Something seems off about it. No teen, no matter how reserved, should have a room like Hisoka does, in the Secretary's opinion.

He sets his burden carefully down on the blue comforter.  The boy does not stir.

The bed isn't very large, but Hisoka still is dwarfed by it. In this bare, vacant place, Tatsumi is reminded more of a cell than a bedroom.

He carefully dresses the prone form in the loose-fitting white shirt and pants from the infirmary. All the white clothing combined with his pale skin makes him look washed out. Faded. 

Feeling strangely paternal, Tatsumi tucks Hisoka in up to his chin with the blue sheets. It does nothing to make him look healthier. Just younger.

Disturbed by the sad picture, the secretary turns away. There is work that must be done. The healing would be left with those who had the skill.

-

TBC? *is very nervous about this fic*


	2. Dreaming

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own Yami no Matsuei. Yup. 

Tribute to the Broken 

_2_

Empaths are very rare creatures. Only one or two full-blown empaths appear in a century, and an empath with telepathy comes along once every five. 

Hisoka is one of those rare few, and that tiny little fact is making Watari's job very difficult right now.  He enlisted the GuShoShin to help him look for information, and so far he has only uncovered two things. One, telempathy is extremely rare, which wasn't that much of a revelation, and two, rather curiously, every single telempath recorded became a Shinigami. Every single one.

That left Watari with a very strange conclusion, and he really didn't want to accept it.  Since all telempaths became Shinigami, were their lives and deaths simply so they could serve Enma better after their deaths? It seemed a cruel fate, from such a kind God, and that's why he couldn't really accept it. 

Watari sighs, and forces himself back to his priorities.  Hisoka first, ethical ponderings later. 

"Watari-san!" the pleased voice of GuShoShin-Elder comes from behind the scientist, "I think I may have found something." There is an ancient-looking book clutched in his claw.

Watari takes it with a thankful nod, and idly flips through a few pages. The book, like most in the library, is very old. Its small, and thin, yellowed pages are almost to the point of crumbling, the faded gold characters on the cover are almost unreadable. "It's the journal of the last telempath to be a Shinigami," GuShoShin explains. 

"Thanks!" The scientist says, amazed at how quickly the book was found in the immense library, and sends out a small prayer of gratitude. "Do you know about when it's from?" 

The chicken-God bows his head, "I'm afraid I don't. It's from before we had really accurate records, I'm sorry to say."

Having always had a fixation with old relics, the blonde eyes the book in his hands with a look of respect, and a bit of excitement, "I'll get right on looking."

___

"…and so, that concludes my official report."

Konoe frowns, and crosses his arms. "I see. And what do you recommend should be done, then?"

Tatsumi straightens, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. "It is my recommendation that Kurosaki-kun be put off duty for a time, until he has recovered." In his mind, he sees a flash of the boy, small and pale in a mass of blue sheets, and doubts that recovery will be swift. "Since there has been a certain lack of pending cases recently, I do not believe this will cause a problem. Tsuzuki-san should also be relieved for the duration, as Watari-san now believes that Kurosaki-kun's illness, being empathic in nature, may be helped by his presence."

"I will see that it is done," Konoe nods. That plan sounded reasonable. "Watari-san," he turns to address the other individual at the meeting, "Have you found out any new information about the sickness?"

Watari does not smile. "I believe that I have." Tatsumi and Konoe shift, put off by the blonde's unusually solemn demeanor. "GuShoShin helped me find the journal of a telempathic Shinigami from a few centuries ago."

"Did you find something similar in their experiences?"

"…Yes. I did." Watari closes his eyes for a moment, "This telempath… had a very hard life, as most do, and had to repress a lot of things. Repression isn't healthy in any case, but for someone with empathic powers… it can be very serious. I believe that this is what's happening with Bon." 

"This may seem rather cold…" Tatsumi begins, "but why now, in particular, would this be affecting him? Why not two months ago, or two years from now?"

"That I can't tell you." Watari replies, still serious,  "In this telempath's case, she was repressed for a very long time… it only took a small thing to push her past the limit."

"After this limit was broken, what exactly happened?" 

"Empaths, as you know, feel other's emotions, and telepaths hear people's thoughts. Telempaths are 'gifted' with both of those abilities. When so much feeling stores inside them, getting to a certain level, they eventually need to push it all out. They end up projecting, strongly, all this emotion to whoever is nearby."

"Pardon me, but I was under the impression that Kurosaki-kun was not projecting upon anyone. As far as I am aware, no one has felt anything from him."

"Well, that goes back to the whole repression idea." Watari is obviously prepared for this question.  "Bon needs to share this build up with others, but he's fighting it. Subconsciously fighting it, I would think… he's not a very open person."

"I see." Konoe says, "You're right, Kurosaki-kun is not the most open of people.  What will happen if he on keeps fighting it?"

"Presumably, he'll just keep getting worse.  I do not believe it will come to that, however. Bon really just needs to relax, and to share the emotional build up with someone. Someone he trusts quite a bit, naturally. Tsuzuki is the obvious choice, considering their long partnership, and I'm sure Tsuzuki, if anyone, can coax it out of Bon."

"That sounds like a good plan. If you would, please go and brief Tsuzuki on what you just told me, and all that he needs to do."

---

Accustomed as he is to teleporting, the world fading out and in does not startle him. As the last shimmer fades, he gets a good view of the little blue house. He notes that it is still as bare as he remembers.  Feeling a momentary stab of guilt, Tsuzuki resolves to bring some things to brighten the house up, soon. The elder Shinigami had meant to before, really he had, but things had always seemed to come up, and his desire had been forgotten.

The brunette resolves to rectify that in the future. Some plants would be nice, he thinks, as they seem like something the blonde would appreciate.

The bedroom is easy enough to find, as he's been there before, and Hisoka, even pale and ill, stands out on the bed.  Tsuzuki feels another stab of guilt, reminded of how little of his partner he has seen as of late. The brunette really should of paid more attention to how drawn he was getting. Hisoka was good at hiding his emotions, but Tsuzuki had always been able to see though him, before. How had he missed _this,_ he wonders.

The empath is curled in around himself. The blankets are long ago kicked off, and the forever-emaciated arms are clutched tightly around his small chest; a ghost of a hug. The pale forehead is creased, and underneath it long lashes are scrunched together.

The brunette rushes to Hisoka's side, eager to help. He is thankful for the personal ward he's wearing around his neck, that prevents him from overwhelming Hisoka with emotions, as he reaches out a gentle hand to stroke the empath's back. 

He can feel the boy's clearly defined spine easily through the thin shirt, and again asks himself how he could of missed this.

The boy uncurls a little, after a few minutes, and Tsuzuki feels a bit of relief as the green eyes open. The empath blinks for a moment, and his eyes focus on Tsuzuki's face…

…then close. He curls in upon himself once again, forehead recreasing. 

"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki questions, startled.  Why was the boy turning away?

The only response is the boy curling tighter. 

"Hisoka, look at me…" Violet eyes are worried even more now.

There appears to be a brief inner struggle, and the eyes open again. They are dull, though.  Flat. Lifeless. "Go away… Please_…_ _Please_." He pleads, softly.

Tsuzuki doesn't know what to say.

--

The voices have stopped. The feelings as well. His mind is not clear, however. When the other voices are quiet, his own is even louder in the silence.  Alone, alone, alone… It wasn't too much to wish for _someone_, was it? 

_Oh, honestly. Stop wallowing. _ 

The voice is always there, now, but all Hisoka feels is tired of it, not really upset. Tired. Was this how Tsuzuki felt, that night in the flames?

_Get a grip, child. Your pain is nothing compared to his. Of course you're alone, haven't we gone over this? Fixating on this is childish, just like you. Grow up!_

The voice is right.  He is weak. He is weak and a child and therefore alone. 

_Oh, wait. You'll _never _grow up, now will you? You'll be like this for eternity. A lost little kid, who no one will ever bother to look for._

…please go away

_That's the thing, darling, I can't go away. I'm you, and I'll be here always._

Then that little voice is silent for a time, but that just means its words keep echoing in his mind. _ A lost little kid, who no one will ever bother to look for…_

A warm hand is stroking his back. It feels good. Ah, this dream again. Such a nice dream. But it is a weak dream, also, and he waits for it to end. 

The dream does not cease, but seems to get clearer. He refuses to believe, though.  It simply hurts too much.  If he were to open his eyes, he would see warm violet ones looking back. Then he would be gathered up to a warm chest and held, and the dream would whisper against his ear, _you'll never be alone…you'll never be alone… I'm here, I'm here…_

Then it would end. And then he'd be alone again. 

He doesn't think he could take that right now.

But... but... for those few moments in his little dream, before its eventual tearing, he would feel happiness.  And that was more than he could say he had now.

He can still feel that gentle warmth on his back.  It's a very persistent dream. Maybe he should open his eyes, he considers, just for a moment… that wouldn't be so bad, would it? But he can't. He really can't. He really, really shouldn't…

But he is weak, and he knows this, and doesn't care. Hisoka opens his eyes. 

The otherworldly face of his partner stares back at him, face set in a worried frown. But there are no feelings coming from him, or thoughts, both of which he would be able to feel if the brunette was real. That confirms that this really is a dream. The hand on his back has stopped, and suddenly Hisoka doesn't want this dream to play out again. Tiredly, he closes his eyes.

"Hisoka?" Nope. Just let the dream end. Go away, go away 

"Hisoka… look at me." No, no he will not…. he will not… 

Even in a dream, he cannot deny that voice. So he complies, dully. "Go away… please… _please_." He begs. Why isn't Tsuzuki vanishing? Oh, that's right, Hisoka thinks darkly to himself, it's because for once I want him to.

"I think you've been alone enough." The illusion says.  He wishes this was reality. 

"Look," he says sharply, suddenly inexorably angry at this dream. "You, being a figment of my imagination, aren't really in a place to do anything about me being alone. Just… go away."

"I…" he seems startled for a second. "Wait, you think I'm a what?"

"I've had this dream often enough, you know. I can guess what you're going to say... You're sorry for not being around lately, right? And… and you've come over to talk. You're worried about me." The words are bitter. "Yeah. And any second now, I'll_ wake up_," he pauses and looks heavenward, as if pleading for that to happen now, "And then…  you'll be gone. So thanks, but I don't feel like dealing with that right now. Leave. Vanish. Whatever."

"Hisoka, I'm real. I swear." The fake Tsuzuki appears to be at loss for words. It's really a very convincing act, but… no. 

That momentary burst of fire that allowed him to speak is gone now. The empath resolves to say nothing. He considers it pointless to explain himself to this... this… mockery.

But… that 'mockery' is looking at him, in an almost desperate way. Why does _it_ have to look so much like him? The blonde is torn.

"I can't feel you," he gives in. Dream-Tsuzuki's a blank spot on my empathy. The opposite of real Tsuzuki.

"Oh, Hisoka…" it looks so pained. Hisoka wonders why he should care. "No, look…" he holds out something the boy hadn't noticed before. It's a ward, on a band around his neck. "I didn't want to overwhelm your empathy, so Watari and I came up with this. It's like a shield." The dark haired man steps away from Hisoka for a moment, and takes the ward off of his neck. 

The empath gives a choked little cry. Feelings bounce through the room and off of the walls, and then against his _mind_. It's painful. There's so _much_ that he can barely make anything out. 

The feelings suddenly cut off, but his head is still ringing. He comes to himself, and realizes that he's curled up again. When all else fails, try the fetal position. 

Then there's that warm hand again, stroking his back for a bit, then running through his hair. Hisoka relaxes into it, until he realize just exactly _who_ is doing it, and tenses up.

"I'm not a dream, Hisoka." Tsuzuki says. Hisoka finally starts to process this, and what it means. That… is the real Tsuzuki. It has been the entire time. And now… he knows about the dreams… and… 

He feels guilty. Guilty because now Tsuzuki, with his soft heart, will feel guilty. 

_You're very good at hurting him, now aren't you, child?_

And the voice is back as well. The voice that's always right.

Hisoka suddenly has no idea what to say. "I... I know you're not a dream, Tsuzuki." Was what he finally comes up with. "I'm sorry," he adds, feeling very small.

"You don't have to be sorry." Tsuzuki says, and then he smiles a little. Hisoka wishes he could tell if it was a real smile or one of his fake smiles, but without his empathy he's left clueless. 

"Why are you here?" the blonde asks finally. 

"I was worried. Well all are." Tsuzuki answers, and Hisoka mentally kicks himself.  He made his partner worry. Adding to his troubles, as always. The elder Shinigami could be out having fun with- having fun with Tatsumi right now, but instead he's stuck here with a little child who can't handle himself…

"I'm sorry." he says again, and looks down at his blanket-covered lap. Even this little bit of interaction has exhausted him.

"It's okay," that soft voice says, "none of this is your fault. We found a book in the library, and we think we know what's wrong with your empathy… Hisoka, don't worry, we'll fix this."

Why is he so kind? Hisoka has no reply, again. He chooses, instead, to focus on the blanket he's currently twisting in his hand. He really needs a new blanket. The blue in his is starting to fade. 

The empath finally looks up as he feels the weight shift on the bed. He's startled. Tsuzuki's pulling back the blankets, crawling in next to him. "Tsuzuki!" He yells, startled. What the hell does he think he's doing!? "Stop it!"

Tsuzuki acts as if he doesn't hear. "It's okay… " He says. God, it sounds like my dream, Hisoka thinks. His vision blurs as he tries to scramble away from Tsuzuki. He's so tired… he really want to sleep, but doesn't think that would be a good idea right now…

Tsuzuki gets his arms around him, and the next thing the empath realizes is that he's sitting in his partner's lap, his little struggles doing absolutely nothing to help him escape.  Again, he gives up. 

So.

Here he is.

In Tsuzuki's _arms._ He's being… held. God. Hisoka looks up at him desperately, "Tsuzuki. What're you _doing?_"

"I'm going to help. Just relax. As long as you relax and trust me, you'll be better in no time. Please, trust me?"

Of… of course I trust him, Hisoka reassures himself. He trusts Tsuzuki more than anyone. But…

"Shhhh…" Tsuzuki's very warm. The empath takes deep breaths. He's not quite sure what Tsuzuki's doing, but he'll trust him. He relaxes, not really having enough energy to be tense for any longer. "There we go..." the violet-eyed man says. Hisoka knows he's being treated like a child, but for once doesn't really care.  It's nice. Tsuzuki grabs his hand, and laces their fingers together, so they're palm to palm. "Try not to think of anything…"

How am I supposed to do _that_? Hisoka wonders, when I'm so close to him… he's all I can think about. This is why I need him so much. He's so… warm, and…

Now Tsuzuki is rocking Hisoka back and forth, slowly. Whispering soft things. The blonde can feel his partner's chest rise and fall.

He closes his eyes.

…the world blurs. Suddenly, he's falling…

Darkness spreads out before him, and he's alone.

---TBC?---

AN: ^^ Wheeee! Wasn't that fun?  Sorry it took so long to update, homecoming got in the way.  And this part was really hard, because I want to get to my actual plot so badly, and I have to write all the setup for it…. Yeah. But now it's all ready, and next I get to use symbolism to my heart's content!  (Just… ignore me. .)

AN AGAIN: I had to edit this, because… this chapter really, really bugged me. I fixed the tense at the end and a bunch of other random things. Sooo…. yay. ^^

 I should update on Wednesdays from now on, if anyone's remotely curious. 


	3. Secret

AN: I would officially like it to be known that this chapter is evil. Truly evil. You probably will want to reread the last few chapters to get back into the story, as I haven't updated in months (sorry!). 

Tribute to the Broken - 3

- secret -

--

One, two, three, four… Kurosaki Hisoka scrunched his nose up in frustration. What came after four? He looked at the smooth stones he had set out before him. One, two, three, four… five! Yes, five. He smiled. Then came six, seven, eight…

"Hisoka-sama, what are you doing?" The blue dress of his nurse Anna came into view, and the three year old boy looked up to meet her question.

"'M counting rocks." The blonde child replied, as if it was obvious, and resumed his game. 

"Are you now?" There was a hint of laughter in her voice, "And why are you counting rocks, Hisoka-sama?"

"Because," Hisoka said, with all the eloquence of the small child he was, "I have to beat the dragon."

Anna smiled. She loved her job, really she did. Taking care of the sweet Kurosaki boy was a pleasure, to be sure "Oh, are you now? Don't you think you're a bit young?"

A pale chin stuck up defiantly, "'M old enough."

"Of course, of course. Terribly sorry, Hisoka-sama. But, may I ask, why are you going to beat a dragon, of all things?" As she spoke, the nurse knelt down and tucked some of the wayward blonde strands behind the boy's ear.

"'Cause dragons are bad. If I don't stop 'im, then the town will go smush. And dad will be mad, 'cause I'm a Kurosaki, and we're supposed to stop the town from going smush."

"I don't think you have to worry about the town going smush, sweetie, there haven't been any dragons in a long time."  Really, Hisoka was just too adorable… protecting the town at age three? 

"There haven't been any dragons lately," Hisoka said, "but there's one now. I can tell. It's angry, 'n it wants to break things."

What an imagination… "Well, all this dragon slaying will have to wait. It's almost time for dinner, now. Come on, let's go wash up." Anna patted the boy's back lightly, and started walking towards the Kurosaki estate.

The boy pouted, and cast a mournful look at the pile of rocks he had so carefully collected. 

The dragon would still be there tomorrow. And once he got rid of it, the pond would be safe to play around.

--

He woke up one morning, and the world seemed to be pressing in on him. Maybe he was sick? Maybe it would just go away. Doctors were scary and needles were worse, and Hisoka did not want to be near either of them. Ever.

"Good morning, Hisoka-sama!" Anna was pulling the drapes away from his windows, letting the warm sunlight shine in. The five year old heir buried his face deeper into the pillow. 

"Mmph."

"C'mon, sweetie, you have lessons today, remember?" Anna cajoled, "It's beautiful outside!"

With a yawn, Hisoka pulled himself from bed. His head still hurt.

The sooner I get Hisoka to lessons, the sooner I can go visit Darren…

"Who's Darren?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.

His nurse didn't respond. He glanced over to see her looking at him really funny. "Um, what did you just say, Hisoka-sama?"

"I asked who Darren was. Does he live in the town?" No matter how much he rubbed his eyes, the ache behind them wouldn't leave. 

Did I say that out loud? 

"Yes." Hisoka replied, "of course you did. How else would I hear it?"

"…It's time for your lessons, Kurosaki-sama. Let's go down for breakfast."

"Anna, what's wrong?" the boy really didn't feel well, "Did I do something wrong?"

"…get dressed, please, Kurosaki-sama. I will be back in a minute."

Anna shut the door behind her, and he heard the lock turn with a soft 'click'.

_--_

His new room really wasn't so bad, once he had gotten used to it. He used to cry, sure, and he used to yell, but he didn't any more. The cell was small, and completely bare, but a servant came down with his meals twice a day, and even though the window was high and barred, sometimes he could even see the moon.

He didn't mind his cage. Hisoka could still feel the thoughts there, the hatred, but they didn't hurt anymore. Probably because he stopped disagreeing with them. 

There's a place for everything in his family, and his is here, where no one else can see.

It's better that way. 

--

They were getting better about letting him outside lately. It was always night when they did, but that was okay because he treasured the sight of the moon without bars crossing it. It was also nice to be able to walk around, stretch his legs. 

Was the moon always that shade, outside? It had never really looked like that through his window. He couldn't really remember from before.

Maybe I can see it better from the hill, he thought, and set off towards it. A gorgeous sakura tree was at the very top, and the blonde boy's lips quirked up into a tiny smile. He loved sakura. The tiny pink petals had been a favorite thing to try to catch when he was little. That he did remember. 

When he got to the top of the hill, he wished he hadn't.  He could feel it coming, fear laying thick and sharp in the air, and something… something dark.  It reminded him of the pond in their gardens he had thought was haunted as a child, only much, much worse. 

What he saw there, what he felt there, was death, dark and cloying. Death and lust, and- god, he'd never seen so much blood before, so much violence before, sheltered as he was- the boy stood motionless, frozen in place and helpless in the face of the murder before him. 

He tried to escape. Tried to run. But when the man in white saw him, Hisoka knew his fate was sealed, death was coming. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? It would certainly make everyone at the estate happier. Not that he cared what they thought.

It hurt, in a way that nothing else ever really had. Scared. He was scared, and the man was touching him, every touch dark, poisoned, and-//

The image flickers. Tsuzuki is jolted out of the horrible scene, back to the little blue house, where a wild-eyed Hisoka is pushing him away, fighting sobs. "Hisoka-"

"That's enough, you've seen enough, please, please leave-" Arms wrapped around his chest, trying to scramble away on weak legs that will not support him. 

"Hisoka..." The empath is still weak, and Tsuzuki gently pulls him back onto the bed, back into his arms, feeling horribly upset from Hisoka's memories- for that's what they were- aching with pain that wasn't his own. "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry, but you need to share this, it's hurting you, and I promise, I promise, it'll all be okay…"

"You don't understand- I can't, Tsuzuki, I can't…" 

Tsuzuki feels like a monster for putting him through this, and Hisoka feels his emotions, and responds even worse, and it's like a spiral of pain for both of them. 

"It'll be okay, it will…" Tsuzuki twines their fingers again, and Hisoka looks into his partner's eyes and can't deny him anything. Not now. Not ever.

The connection between them opens up again in a torrent, and as Hisoka relives it, he cries, and Tsuzuki cries with him. 

---

AN: Um. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to take this long with this part… I have about five different versions of this chapter sitting on my hard drive, all with different titles that vary from 'tribute3' to the current one, 'ARGH'. This… was hard to write. Yeah ^^;; I'm going to try to stop stressing over if the readers will like it, and just let it play out the way I want it to. 

Constructive criticism is always very welcome. I know my writing is rather… unpolished? I don't write very much ^^; I love to try, though. 

Thank you for reading, if you've gotten this far. 


	4. Trust

AN: Be proud! It hasn't even been two weeks since my last update! Are you shocked? Huh, huh?

Going to Anime Central tomorrow, so I won't be replying right away or anything to any responses, sorry. (Anyone else going? Ne, ne? I'll be dressed as Raenef from Demon Diary! Say hi to me!)

Um, extra warning for angst this chapter. Yes, more angst than normal. Um. ;

_--_

Tribute to the Broken

_chapter four_ – _trust_

_--_

"You're still sick."

Tsuzuki's frowning at me, his hand on my forehead. I don't respond immediately- after… after what my empathy has shown him, I can't seem to act the way I normally would.

"I'm fine." You can go home now, really, I can take care of myself.

He frowns deeper. "I don't think so, Hisoka… it's been a few days. It's like you're worse, now!"

He means that it's been a few days since my empathy decided that it hadn't messed up my life enough, yet, and decided to share things with Tsuzuki that… things I didn't want to share.

"Something's still bothering you, Hisoka. I can tell." Tsuzuki has been hovering subtly near me for the past few days, and the strange, pinched look that's been in his eyes just got even more pronounced.

"There's _nothing_!" I yell back at him. Nothing that I can share with you, nothing at all. I'm sorry. Please, just give up on me.

"I promise, whatever it is, it will be okay-"no, Tsuzuki, no it won't- "just… please? Hisoka…"

"You don't _understand_."

"Don't you trust me?" Great, he's looking at me with that hurt look, and… that's not a fair question, Tsuzuki, it's not…

"I-"

"You could die from this, Hisoka! It's serious!"

"You-"

"I can't be responsible for another death, Hisoka.... You're my partner. I need you."

…he's not going to give up. I know that. I'm only delaying in inevitable. Whether from this sickness, or from his rejection, it will all end the same.

Slowly, I reach out my hand toward him. It's shaking, a little, and I concentrate on keeping it still. "…here."

This way, I think, as Tsuzuki gives me a comforting smile and takes my hand; the weight of my death won't be on his conscience.

"It'll be okay, Hisoka, whatever it is."

_I'll miss this._

Close my eyes.

I'm so sorry, Tsuzuki.

--

This time, the dream is from Hisoka's perspective. Tsuzuki takes a moment to ponder this, as he floats behind Hisoka in the very hallways of JuOhCho that they go through every day.

He had been expecting… something decidedly different. Muraki, perhaps. His partner's childhood. Not these boring grey walls, not this mundane day.

He sees Hisoka sit down at his desk, something about it tugging at his memory. What had…?

It is a bit of a surprise to see himself walk through the office door, Tatsumi behind. Now this he remembers, smiling a bit at Tatsumi's slightly flustered look and their intertwined hands. This is the day they told the office about their relationship, so to speak. Hisoka first, of course.

He remembers being distinctly put out by Hisoka's lack of response, but that's about all he does recall. Why is Hisoka so stuck on this?

Well, there it is, just as it was that day. Hisoka's small smile, well wishes for the couple. Tatsumi and the past-Tsuzuki exit, and the empath sits down to his paperwork again.

This is where the violet-eyed Shinigami's memory of the event ends. Hisoka's continues.

The boy's back is tense, and a crease between his eyes betrays that he is upset about something. The watcher blinks, wide-eyed, as the empath suddenly gets up and walks out of the office door, then out of the building itself. He floats behind. True, it wasn't an unusual thing for Hisoka to take walks, but he usually waited until their work was done at least. He is confused when he sees the blonde curls himself into a hidden corner by the stairs, and shocked when the boy begins to tremble and Hisoka begins to- …_cry_?

And even though he couldn't hear thoughts before, the voice and the words are loud in the sudden silence of his mind.

_That's what you get,_ a little voice taunts, bitter and mocking, _that's what you get for daring to think anyone would ever care about you._

Hisoka…

His shoulders are shaking.

_Haven't you learned by_ now_?_ _You're lucky he stayed with you that long… longer than all the others did._

The blonde head nods, but the voice continues. _Not 'buts', no nothing. He deserves happiness so much more than you. Let Tsuzuki go have his happiness. You are nothing; you can't give that to him. Leave it to _him_. Be happy._

_I am happy,_ Tsuzuki hears the boy's voice in his mind now, a voice that sounds so young. _I'm happy that he is happy._

The pure strength that Hisoka radiates as he pulls himself up and wipes his eyes, leaves the already stunned Tsuzuki aching. As he tries to go back to work and falls to his knees despite himself, the ache in the older Shinigami's chest turns into a flare of pain.

_Oh, really. You're so _weak. _Get over it. No one will ever want you, accept it, move on. I don't know why someone wonderful like him was even near you in the first place. Every time he looks at you, I don't know how he stands it. You're a reminder of the one he hates._

The voice, Tsuzuki realizes, sounds just like the Kurosaki's father.

_…the one he hates? _

_Muraki. You're Muraki's doll, his puppet, marked by him. Every time Tsuzuki sees you, he must be reminded of the man who almost drove him to suicide. Again. You hurt him by being near him. Don't you think of anyone but yourself?_

Tsuzuki wants this to stop. He needs this to stop. How did he miss _this_, he asks himself, for the hundredth time.

_Get up. Go back to work._

After a long moment, Hisoka's face returns to its normal blankness. The boy stands again, and walks back into the building as if nothing had just occurred.

Tsuzuki can't think of anything to say.

The memory flickers, once, twice, then begins to fade. The pain in Tsuzuki's heart only burns stronger.

--

I come to awareness with my hand still curled around Hisoka's, staring mutely at our linked hands. It's a sharp feeling, a twist in my heart when the bare realization hits me. This is what he was keeping from me. This is what he didn't want me to know. All of this… everything… it was…

Hisoka's family hadn't done this to him, in the end. Muraki hadn't managed to crush the empath's spirit, with his lust and his lies.

It… it was me. _I_ did this. _I_ hurt him. I didn't even notice, realize, even _consider_…

I don't deserve to be this important to him. I don't deserve to even be _near_ this precious person.

I can't cause any more harm. Teleporting quickly to the first place that comes to mind, I hope that someday, Hisoka will forgive me.

-

Tsuzuki looks shocked. He's tense, frowning… not even looking at me.

I don't blame him.

I can't feel a thing with my empathy- which is probably for the best. I can guess, though, what he does feel. Shock, first- how could this _child_ possibly even _consider_…. A bit of anger as well, most likely. Didn't I want Tsuzuki to be happy, with Tatsumi? Why would I dare to consider them breaking up?

Knowing Tsuzuki, probably a great deal of guilt too. The violet-eyed man is probably thinking through the right way to tell me that he's very sorry, but he doesn't think we can work together anymore…

I know why he won't look at me, but that doesn't stop it from hurting.

When Tsuzuki vanishes, it is not a surprise. Of course, teleportation is an easy way to escape this, and, I suppose, I might do the same, if in his place.

Oh. I'm shaking.

I probably missed a lot of work while I was away. I'll need to get on that quickly, finish it so when Tsuzuki gets his new partner they won't start off backlogged. I owe him at least that.

Still shaking.

It's silly. I've known this was coming.

… The house is a mess. I should work on that, really. This kitchen's probably horrible- I can't quite remember the last time I did the dishes.

Takes me two tries to untangle myself from the sheets- everything is detached in an odd, blurry sort of way.

I don't have a dishwasher. That would be silly, considering how few dishes I have, much less how few dishes I actually use. There's still a considerable pile at the sink, however. I turn on the tap to hot, and reach into the cabinet for a sponge.

I stare at this dishes, remembering some of the messes Tsuzuki made while cooking- nearly impossible to clean. Honestly, how did Tsuzuki get everything so _sticky_ while making soup?

I am halfway through my chore when I have to turn off the tap, have to set down my sponge.

Always, always I'm so weak.

Curling up around my knees on the floor, I begin to cry.

-tbc-


	5. tease

"You know, this is sort of uncomfortable. The floor's cold."  
_Deal with it._  
"I've been dealing with it. My butt's _cold_."  
_Aren't you supposed to be crying?_  
"Sleeping, actually. She hasn't been near this for months, it doesn't matter."  
_Still._  
"You can only angst on a kitchen floor for so many months straight. It gets old."  
_Wanna play 'I Spy' again?_  
"I'm so sick of that game! There's nothing left to spy. She didn't describe enough. This sucks. I want Tsuzuki."  
_She can't leave us alone forever, right?_  
"..."  
_Right?_  
"...It hasn't been looking so good. It's already been... how many months?"  
_Five? No, six now._  
"Pathetic."  
_She needs time management skills. And problem solving skills._  
"Well, how would you fix all this then?"  
_Er... she could make Tsuzuki love you._  
"Then what about Tatsumi-san?"  
_Um.. he could die?_  
"And this would make Tsuzuki happy _how_?"  
_...give him pastries?_  
"You suck."  
_I'm your Inner Voice of Angst. It's what I do._  
"Mmph."

--

Will write more soon? Sorry. I am too easily distracted for my own good. This will be taken down later when real chapter five is put up.


	6. Equilibrium

Wow. I think this is it. I'm so terribly sorry it took so long. I've been writing this series itself since freshman year of high school, and I'm a junior now. Needless to say, my writing has gone through many, many changes over this time. Quite frankly, the reason it took so long is because my writing in the beginning was making me so upset that I just didn't want to even touch this again.

But I know what it feels like when an author just leaves a story unended. When something I'm reading ends up like that, I just feel so sad and unfulfilled.

So. Here it is, people.

-

**Chapter Six**

_equilibrium_

Tatsumi was worried. A few days had passed, with no word from Tsuzuki. The secretary knew that it was a delicate situation, Hisoka's empathy, but… Tsuzuki surely would have had time to send some word, at least. They could both be in danger for all he knew, and the urge to go check on them both grew stronger with every hour that passed. He sat stiffly at his desk, and tried to focus on figures.

They needed to order a new office coffee maker… that would need to be factored into the budget, and soon. The Shoukan Division itself is nearly crippled without caffeine. What would Watari do, without a place to put his concoctions? And Tatsumi knew very well that Tsuzuki could not function without coffee. Of course, his coffee would be so full of sugar and cream it would be unrecognizable...

Trying to focus was pointless. Tatsumi liked knowing how everything stood. What was happening with Tsuzuki and Hisoka was a definite mystery.

The shadow master made his decision. He would go to where they were and check on them. As long as he kept himself tightly shielded, he rationalized; it wouldn't hurt Hisoka in any way. He would simply go and ascertain as to whether they were in need of assistance, and see how much longer this would take. With two Shinigami down, things were bound to get backlogged, and he needed to utilize his resources properly.

And he was worried. He wondered why that was such a hard thing to admit to himself.

There was a fading in and out, and the secretary found himself in a small, bare living room.

It was very quiet.

As he took a few tentative steps into the room, Tatsumi found himself wondering just what he would say to the pair when he found them. He didn't want them to believe he didn't trust them to work through this. If anyone could help the empath, it would be Tsuzuki. He had a way of dealing with all the empath's prickly parts that no one else did.

His preliminary search of the house turned up nothing. Bare room after bare room, not that there were many rooms in the house. _That_ made him apprehensive. The last room to check was the kitchen, which he walked to very quickly, unnerved by the stillness of the place.

Tatsumi almost walked past the boy on the floor. Hisoka appeared to be asleep against the sink, and from the way he was holding a towel, looked to have fallen asleep while washing dishes.

This did not help Tatsumi's confusion at all. And it added to the concern. Tsuzuki would never leave a sick Hisoka alone on a kitchen floor. His sharp blue gaze searched the room for clues. Finding none, he crouched on the linoleum next to the hunched empath.

His face was red in a way that could only be from crying, and Tatsumi paused for a moment. It was so rare to see any real emotion from the boy. There were definite tear tracks.

Every alarm bell in Tatsumi's mind went off at the same time. Tsuzuki simply wouldn't leave his partner here like this. Therefore, something must be very wrong.

He would have to go searching. He almost went off to do just that, but stopped. If picking Hisoka up hadn't hurt him before, it wouldn't hurt him now. The secretary couldn't simply leave him on the floor as such. Crouching down on the tiles, he reached out to lift the empath up, and-

_the world became muffled, dark, such a crushing wave of despair rolled over him that he was on the floor too, and it didn't seem to matter. Nothing really did. He could sit here all day, no one would mind very much, until he didn't come in to fill in blanks and write summaries and- But Tsuzuki would get a new partner soon and everything would be different and maybe they'd do the paperwork and he'd just have to be alone. There was nowhere to direct the blame but to himself. He had to get over this he needed to get over this because it wasn't a big deal, really, it just hurt _so_ much _

Tatsumi jerked away.

And stared.

Steeling himself, he reached out again, and the emotions were strong enough to make him use every last ounce of willpower to hold on. The boy was light in his arms, as he carried him back into his room.

He laid Hisoka down on the bed. The abrupt halt to that emotion left him feeling distinctly unbalanced. He took deep breaths. Experiencing empathy was a new thing, because of his natural resistance.

He would go find Tsuzuki_, right now_.

-

First Tsuzuki's apartment, then the office, where people took one look at the stiff posture and frustrated eyes, and decided maybe they'd just better get out of his way.

Giving a sigh and thinking darkly that the empathy must've been keeping him from thinking clearly, he went to his own apartment, berating himself for not looking there first.

Tsuzuki was sitting on the floor, staring at the wall. He did not look up.

Tatsumi shifted uneasily, weighing his options. Then sat down on the carpet next to the violet-eyed man. "Tsuzuki…"

"It's my fault," the violet-eyed man said, after a moment. His fingers twisted through the fibers off the flooring.

"No." Tatsumi asserted, "It isn't."

"Tatsumi.. Tatsumi, I-"

"I just saw him Tsuzuki. It can be made right." Tatsumi reached out, put a hand on the older Shinigami's shoulder.

Jerking away in a sudden movement, Tsuzuki's voice raised. "You don't understand- Tatsumi, he- he loves me. I felt it. It _hurts_."

"It's not your fault, Tsuzuki," Tatsumi said, inwardly growing more resigned, as he made his own decisions. "It isn't anybody's fault."

"It is. It is. He was so alone all his life, I'm the only friend he's ever really had. I'm the one who's made him so sick and miserable, I was so convinced that he couldn't care for me like that, I ignored him… Tatsumi…"

Tatsumi put a finger to Tsuzuki's lips. "Blaming yourself like this is fruitless. Go. I know you feel the same as him."

Violet eyes are torn, always so conflicted. "I- Tatsumi, but I love _you_. Just-"

"It's fine. For the time we have been together, I am grateful." Tatsumi thought back to the image of Hisoka, curled up on the floor, "but, I know how he feels. And I am not so blind as to not know how you feel, Tsuzuki."

"Tatsumi…"

There was a special tilt to Tatsumi's eyes; it meant that he was smiling. "Go. Now. Or you'll both be useless on any cases, and I'll be forced to dock both your pay." Tatsumi's glasses glinted to show he meant it.

Tsuzuki reached out and hugged him, fiercely, clutching the back of the other man's suit. "Tatsumi…" he looked the secretary in the eyes, his voice steady and sincere, "Thank you. Thank you."

Tsuzuki seemed to straighten, then, letting go and standing tall. "I will make this right."

-

tbc

author's note: …is it bad that I was thrilled to be able to use a chemistry thing as my chapter title? Heh. Iwas going to call it shift to products, but, um, I felt that was getting too technical. ;;


End file.
